Ever since he moved back east, my brother has been hyping Lake St. Clair as a muskie mecca, a warmwater fly angler’s wet dream. But with the little Boston Whaler undergoing restoration, I never made it out there until a few weeks ago, long after the big predators put away the feedbag and the lake turned over.
But we had a decent stretch of weather, so we hitched up the boat and gave it a shot. Driving through the ruins of Detroit, I had my doubts… the lake is only six miles from the city who’s police recently told visitors “We can’t protect you: Enter at your own risk.”
Aside from a few duck hunting boats, we had the lake to ourselves: 26 miles north-to-south of shallow flats and weird river deltas. Lake St. Clair is situated between Lake Huron and Lake Erie and is gin clear, strangely shallow, and full of fish.
We boated a couple specimens, ate dinner at a Detroit Hooters, made it home without incident. But you can bet next spring I’ll be taking up residency near Motor City, buying one of those $100 houses and setting up shop.